


I'm down if you're down

by failurebydesign



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failurebydesign/pseuds/failurebydesign
Summary: When Tito drops his wrist, he must notice Mat staring, and moves in. “Have you been checking me out all day long?”(Or Mat and Tito make use of the NHL Network Studio in an unconventional way.)





	I'm down if you're down

**Author's Note:**

> If you found this upon googling, exit immediately. This is a complete work of fiction and in no way am I implying that anything written in here is true. Stories are not meant to be circulated or shared with those written in them. All is loosely based on some real events, that is all. There's a lot of self-indulgent sex in this one, so you may not want to read it if your names listed here.
> 
> Thanks to glazedsun for reading it over quickly and dealing with me and this all day long.

Mat expects his off-season to start off slow. He has a few weeks before they need to fly out to Denmark for Worlds and plans on relaxing before going right back into training.

He wakes up, phone vibrating against the side of his face, with a groan. Tito already blew up his phone with several texts and now, is calling for what looks like the third time in two minutes.

“The fuck, man?” Mat tilts his head, holding his phone against his shoulder so that he’s able to rub the sleep from his still-groggy eyes.

“Mat, Christ, finally,” Tito says, sounding more awake than he is.

“What do you want?” Mat doesn’t mean to sound rude, it’s just—he was sleeping.

“Please tell me you didn't forget we're going to the NHL Network today.”

Mat blinks, slowly. “This afternoon, Tito.” He checks the clock and it’s 9:00 AM.

“Okay, yeah,” Tito says. “But I know you won’t be ready by the time I pick you up. It takes you longer to do your hair than it does to pick out and something to wear, and that already takes forever.”

Mat wants to be mad but.. he has a point.

“I’ll be there in like, an hour and a half so be ready,” Tito says and hangs up the phone before Mat can protest.

***

Tito doesn’t stop talking about baseball the entire drive to the studio. Mat doesn’t dislike baseball, but he wonders if this is how Tito feels when he tries to hold a conversation about a pretty sick basketball game he watched the night before.

He won’t say baseball is boring, but it isn’t basketball and it definitely isn’t hockey.

“Just try and be into it, okay?” Tito rolls his eyes at Mat, who thinks maybe Tito should practice what he preaches. “You’ll have fun, promise.”

“And if I don't?” Mat asks.

“Then I’ll buy your insufferable ass lunch.”

“Pizza,” Mat says, without a second thought.

***

Meeting Pedro Martinez is pretty cool, Mat has to admit, and when they’re asked to bat some pitches, he’s the first to say yes.

It isn’t that Mat thinks he’s good at _everything_ , just that he’s used to being told he is. So, naturally, when he grips the baseball bat and swings, he expects good results. He hits the ball—which is great, but then it goes high, hits the ceiling and all he can hear is Tito laughing. He tries again, misses and—God, he’s embarrassing. It doesn’t help when Tito tries to offer him the bigger bat to use instead.

He rolls his eyes at Tito and hopes his expression reads, “fuck off,” because Mat is a professional and wouldn’t ever dream of saying those words in a setting like this one.

“Let me try it,” Tito says, tugging the bat away from Mat with a confident little smirk. 

Something about his confidence, paired with the fact that Tito felt short sleeves were appropriate, does something to Mat—making his stomach turn over and hands clench. And when Tito hits the ball, cleanly, unlike Mat and Mat can only focus on Tito’s arms, fit and strong—Mat wants, no needs Tito’s hands on him.

“Fuck,” Mat mumbles under his breath.

“And that,” Tito says with a laugh when he walks back over to Mat, “is how it’s done.”

“Show off,” Mat replies and tries his best not to think about Tito’s arms and how they’d feel, flexing as he presses against his body, holding him down. He’s thankful when Tito pulls his suit coat back on and remembers how to breathe.

The rest of their time in the studio is a blur. They talk about baseball, and hockey, of course, and Mat tries his very best to remain composed.

Tito glances at him now and then with a grin, like he knows what Mat is thinking. Mat doesn’t hold eye contact long, just gives what he thinks is a casual smile back and adverts his gaze. Unfortunately for Mat, he ends up looking at other parts of Tito instead. 

When they finally get a minute to themselves, Tito nudges Mat’s shoulder with a laugh.

“You really suck at batting,” Tito reminds Mat, because he’s a stand-up best friend whose responsibility is to keep Mat’s ego in check. 

“Mhm, thanks, man,” Mat says and swings to give Tito a playful punch. Tito’s faster than him this time, like he’s expecting it.

Tito holds Mat around the wrist, stares him down and then Mat’s back to thinking about the strength Tito possesses—how easily he could use that to get him off. 

When Tito drops his wrist, he must notice Mat staring, and moves in. “Have you been checking me out all day long?”

“Uh.” Mat’s words get caught in his throat, but no answer is answer enough for Tito. Hooking up isn’t new for them, but objectifying Tito in public kind of is.

“Okay, good, because your ass in those pants, what the hell,” Tito admits, and suddenly Mat feels a bit dizzy with this new information. “I’ve been staring, like… all day, I think.”

“Want to get out of here?” Mat asks, because he’s suddenly faced with one of two choices—find somewhere to have sex with Tito or do it right there in the studio. With cameras everywhere, the studio doesn’t seem like the right choice.

“Or,” Tito says, in thought.

“Or?”

“I mean, it’s going to take us _forever_ to get back to my apartment,” Tito says. “Can you wait?”

“Can _you_?” Mat bites his lip.

Tito glances over his shoulder then back to Mat—Mat who is shifting his weight between his feet, unable to stay still for much longer. 

“You’re really good at picking the worst times to—,” Tito begins, voice lowering when someone walks by. Exhaling, he grabs Mat by the arm, tugging him towards the make-up room. “C’mon.”

Once inside, Tito locks the door and that act alone is enough to send shivers down Mat’s spine. He knows that, for now, they’re alone, and that does things to his brain that he definitely isn’t able to comprehend.

Mat doesn’t waste any time, mouth on Tito’s almost immediately. Tito makes a soft, barely-there sound, sucks Mat’s bottom lip between his teeth and makes him feel like he’s spinning without having once moved his feet.

They drop their jackets on a chair, but Mat insists on leaving their shirts on, just in case they’re rushed to get redressed. 

Tito is careful, doesn’t muss Mat’s hair too much and gently untucks his dress shirt all while he’s careless where it matters—sucking a deep, purple mark into Mat’s collarbone.

“Fuck me,” Mat gasps, upon realizing what Tito’s done, but also out of absolute need for more. He decides he’ll worry about the mark later and palms at the front of Tito’s pants, pleased when he whimpers and grinds back.

“Yeah,” Tito says, breathy and clearly just as worked up as Mat. “I can do that.”

Tito works the front of Mat’s pants open just enough to wriggle his hand down the front and give Mat’s dick a few slow but lengthy strokes. It’s good, in that moment, Mat thinks.

“Want to fuck you against that counter,” Tito says, breath hot against Mat’s neck. There’s a big mirror in front of it, the same one Mat used to fix his hair earlier, and yeah—Mat wants that.

“In front of the mirror?” Mat takes a few backwards steps, towards the counter. It’s something they’ve discussed, briefly—Tito fucking Mat in front of a mirror, but never practiced. Tito doesn’t have to answer for Mat to know that’s what he’s looking for.

They’re apart for seconds and then Tito is back up against Mat, hips grinding against his thigh with a sense of urgency.

Tito tugs Mat’s pants and underwear down past his hips, watches as they hit the floor and curls a hand around his dick. Mat licks at his bottom lip, back arching slightly as Tito jerks him off, smearing a bit of precome all over.

“C’mon,” Mat says, pulling on one of Tito’s belt loops.

Tito smiles, slowly, giving Mat’s dick a few more satisfying tugs. “Hm?”

“Lube,” Mat mumbles incoherently into Tito’s neck, because they can’t do much without it, but, of course, Tito’s prepared.

He pulls out a small packet, like he’s planned on this all along, rips it open and slicks his fingers with a bit of the lube. His free hand grips Mat’s hip, turns him around and presses firmly against the small of his back with a low, “bend over.”

Mat, without question, does.

He props his elbows up on the counter, waits, and feels slightly disappointed that he can’t see much of what Tito is doing just yet. Then, Tito’s finger sinks into him, slow and purposeful, Mat’s eyes flutter shut and seeing doesn’t matter much. 

“Holy shit,” Mat says, low, dropping his forehead against the counter. He feels the immediate need to press back, grind down and take as much as he can.

When he lifts his head, slightly and glances into the mirror, he can see Tito, eyes focused and hungry for only him. It’s a boost to his ego that he probably doesn’t need.

Tito must know—he twists his finger, just barely, but doesn’t give Mat much more than that. He, instead, smacks him full on the ass with his free hand, seemingly proud when Mat needs to choke back a moan.

“Shh,” Tito reminds him, because there’s a full studio of people who don’t know that they’re in here, doing _this_.

“ _Anthony_ ,” Mat says. It’s his way of letting Tito know that that his self control is left hanging by a thread—the thread that snaps the moment Tito presses a second finger into Mat.

Mat swallows, hard, and has to hold his breath when he feels the push and drag of Tito’s slick fingers working him open. He could come like this, probably, but doesn’t dare reach for his own dick. 

By the time Tito is finished, Mat’s arms are heavy and shaky from holding himself up like that. He doesn’t move until he hears the distinct sound of Tito’s zipper and then, suddenly, he’s back to breathing way too heavily.

“Get up there,” Tito says, motioning towards the counter. 

There’s a chair, next to it, which is probably more practical, but Mat is anything but in the moment and hops up, back pressed against the mirror.

“This is so stupid,” Mat says, but then Tito pushes his knee up, settles in between Mat’s legs and—, “This is so _hot_.”

Tito slathers the rest of the lube over his dick, lines himself up and just before pushing into Mat, mumbles, “ _So_ fucking hot.”

Mat’s slightly let down that he doesn’t get to enjoy the perks of being fucked in front of a mirror, but then Tito tilts his hips, fucking into him in a way that makes Mat’s toes curl. He hooks one leg, then another around Tito and trusts he’ll hold him there as picks up speed. 

Tito’s hands hold him down, steady—one at his hip and the other against his chest, just like Mat wants. The fast, slick drag of Tito’s dick hits just right and yeah, he thinks, he could come untouched if Tito keeps this up.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Mat pants as Tito fucks into him with quick, uneven snaps of his hips. He doesn't hold back, moans loudly and rolls his hips down, riding down the length of Tito’s dick.

“Shh.” Tito shoves his palm in Mat’s face, pressing it over Mat’s mouth to silence him. It’s warm—a bit clammy, but does the job, reverting Mat’s moans to soft, muffled whimpers.

Tito doesn’t keep his hand there long, shifting to lean in and kiss Mat, instead. It’s how Mat knows he’s close—Tito always kisses him before he comes.

“Gonna come for me?” Mat asks, then licks into Tito’s mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. He’s close, himself, wound up and yet pliant in a state that he’s only ever been able to reach with Tito.

Tito doesn't speak, just chokes back his own moan and strokes Mat in time with his thrusts, breath quick and shaky. 

Mat tilts his head back when something tugs at his stomach, his world going white and fuzzy around the edges. He must start to get loud, because next thing he knows, he's moaning into one of Tito’s hands and coming into the other.

“Fuck, Mat,” Tito finally says when he slips out and ends up coming on Mat’s thigh. He ducks his head, like he hadn’t meant to aim _there_ , but Mat, still in the moment, chooses to kiss Tito over worrying about a bit of a mess.

Once Mat catches his breath, he and Tito clean off with half of the small box of tissues that was left in the room.

He laughs when he slides off of the counter, tucks his shirt and fastens his pants, Tito busy trying to make himself look a little less disheveled as well.

“That was uh,” Tito says, a little late to be embarrassed. Mat isn’t sure if it’s the sex or the slight shame of fucking in the NHL Network Studio of all places that gets Tito that way, but he absolutely revels in it. 

“New? Amazing? Abso-fucking-lutely unreal?”

“All of the above,” Tito decides.

***

After, when they stop for pizza, Mat doesn’t realize it, but he’s unable to wipe the smile off of his face. When he pays for lunch, for both of them, Tito smiles, too.

“What?” Mat takes a big bite of pizza.

“Are you _paying_ me for sex?” Tito asks. “In _pizza_?” 

Mat laughs, because it’s a ridiculous question, but, maybe, he thinks, he is. “Uh.”

“Oh my god, you are.”

“I’m totally not, shut up,” Mat says quickly, then takes another bite. He tries not to look at Tito, can see him smile out of the corner of his eye, and knows he’s caught. “It was—I had a good time, it was really great, okay? Not the baseball, I sucked at that. But, you know, after that.”

Tito sets his pizza down, looks a bit thoughtful and then grins. “What do I have to do to get some ice cream?”

Mat just about drops his slice of pizza, eliciting a laugh from Tito. 

“Nothing here,” Mat says quickly, because he’s all for kink exploration, but not in the middle of a pretty busy restaurant.

“Think about it,” Tito says

Tito doesn’t have to do _anything_ for ice cream—Mat will give him what he wants for free. He plans on showing him, once they leave, and if there’s ice cream involved, afterwards—it’s merely a coincidence.

**Author's Note:**

> Song title from "Mine," by Bazzi.
> 
> I wrote this before I saw photo proof that they actually were staring each other down all day, so there's that.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @ dejadejayou or titobeauvillier on tumblr!


End file.
